Sent From Above
by Shan at Warblerland
Summary: Based on CP Coulter's "Dalton" - The Juliark -Julian/Clark- Trilogy. Julian Larson spirals down in Tinsel Town after fleeing Dalton Academy, and he finds himself under the protection of Hollywood's last angel.
1. Sent From Above

**Title**: Sent From Above  
**Pairing**: Clark/Julian (Clark Sawyer [-Davis] and Julian Larson-Armstrong)  
**Warning**: Language, underage drinking  
**Notes:** Yes, all right, I ship the weird ones. In "Brother Act", Clark Sawyer is Reed van Kamp's older popstar stepbrother, who works with Julian in TV shows and other things. ...so I shipped them. JUDGE ME.

_Julian Larson, Clark Sawyer, and the Daltonverse plotline are from CP Coulter's "Dalton". _

* * *

As far as Clark Sawyer knew, Julian Larson could hold his liquor. In fact, when the entire cast of _Something Damaged_ proceeded to waste themselves to mindlessness during the end of the third season, Julian was still standing and both of them were the ones who had to call up everyone's people to make sure that they would get out of the set and straight into their homes without any paparazzi snapping compromising shots.

So when Clark saw Julian pressed up against the cushions of the semi-circle couch in the bar, palms pressed to his forehead and Kamikaze glass empty, he got worried that something was really wrong.

"Julian." He sat next to him, trying to use his body to cover Julian from the sight of the rest of the bar. The sight of Julian Larson being drunk was a veritable holy grail in the entertainment industry. "Julian." He shook his shoulder gently.

Julian seemed to rouse himself and raised his head from the couch cushion. His eyes were blurry, but he lifted them and they landed on the sight of Clark, blond and tall, and concerned. And for a moment, Julian thought he saw someone else. He found, after leaving Dalton, that it was very easy to do that in a dark bar full of handsome men. "…Logan?"

"No…" Clark smiled gently, a little curious. "It's Clark." He dipped an arm under Julian's head and carefully pulled him off the couch. "Come on. You're done. Let's go."

"Party's'not ov'r…" Julian slurred as Clark only managed to lean the brunette against him. Around them, the first party of the cast and crew on location for _South of Heaven_, the predicted blockbuster extravaganza of the next year, continued to go crazy, oblivious to them.

"It is for you, Julian…" Clark smiled a bit more as he patted Julian's pockets for his sunglasses, and slipped it over the other actor's eyes. "Let's go, you've had enough to drink. I'll take you to your condo."

The tone Clark used—one of quiet, unassuming kindness—was foreign to Julian. The brunette said nothing, and just stared up at him half-lidded, unseen behind the dark glasses. Clark carefully slipped Julian's arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet. "Easy."

"M'not a—a _child_…" Julian grumbled, awkwardly pushing his glasses back up.

"I know you're not," Clark said agreeably as he began leading Julian to the door. He wasn't one to argue with drunk people; he found that they were actually easy to talk to if you were patient. "But you are, for the first time since I've known you, drunk. Officially. How many drinks have you had?"

Julian just groaned into the crook of Clark's neck in answer. The older boy laughed softly. "All right, I'll take that as a lot." Clark good-naturedly waved to the crewmembers giving them tipsy goodbyes—Alicia Harris, Julian's onscreen wife-to-be was already overboard, being incredibly loud and Clark had the suspicion that this would be making TMZ at least—and brought Julian outside.

The cold wind seemed to wake Julian a little. The actor groaned again and looked around. "What…?"

When the town car arrived, Clark carefully poured Julian into the seat and climbed in next to him. He gave the driver instructions, and leaned back. Julian immediately leaned against him, and Clark turned to him in surprise to find the actor's head on his shoulder.

"I think…I'm going to throw up."

Not exactly Clark's idea of good news. "Please don't." He pulled away Julian's glasses to make him comfortable, and brushed the hair that fell into the other boy's eyes. And for a moment, Clark's felt the strange fluttering in his stomach. Butterflies…?

Julian raised his eyes to him, looking directly into his blue ones. …yes, Clark was positive those were butterflies now.

As Julian blinked, his alcohol-addled mind finally came to focus. His face was very very close to that of Clark's, and it was impossible not to recognize the handsome star next to him. "…oh. Clark."

"Nice to meet you too," the popstar smirked.

A jarring thought blasted into Julian's head so fast that he got a headache just realizing it. "Oh—_shit_, I thought you were—"

"Logan?" Clark asked with a smile. "That's what you called me earlier."

Julian flushed and it definitely wasn't because of the alcohol, and an uncomfortable twist went into his stomach. Fuck all tall gorgeous blond guys in Hollywood and fuck his screwed psyche that continued to run back to Dalton where he'd left Logan. Well at least it was Clark—Clark wasn't the gossiping type and was almost too sensible for Hollywood standards. "Shit—I'm sorry."

"That's all right," Clark answered, looking rather amused. "Is he…why you've been drinking like that?"

Julian pulled away from that smile that offered nothing but warmth. No one was that kind around here. "…whatever, man."

Clark looked away for a moment, wondering how to phrase his words in the most un-accusatory way possible. He'd known Julian long enough on _Something Damaged_ for them to be considered as 'friends', and he knew that Julian, for all his carefully-crafted Tinsel Town-standard behavior, was something quite different inwardly. He knew he was dealing with someone who would retreat if he hit the topic the wrong way.

"Is he…someone from school?" Clark asked carefully. "A friend, maybe, or…classmate?"

Julian glanced back at him. He sensed something else in Clark's words. It was envy. Julian glanced away. He knew that Clark bled showbiz twenty-four-seven and had the furthest thing to a normal life. As popstar and member of a boy group, and with recordings, concerts, promotions, interviews and shoots, life was hectic enough. And when he landed his first role and people discovered that he could not only act but also act well, things went crazy and Clark couldn't go and have a normal life even if he wanted to. Julian still had Dalton.

Though…not anymore. He ran. Away from the boy with hypnotic green eyes.

The two of them sighed as though so tired. It was a terrible thing, to be so tired at seventeen. At least it was in Julian's case—Clark was nineteen. But they were both so very tired.

"Yeah…" Julian murmured after a pause, staring out the car window. It was snowing. "A…a friend." Always had been. Not anymore. Now he was no one. Logan will be no one to him. Dalton was closed off to him now, and everyone in it. Julian will now always and forever be Julian Larson, actor, and not Julian, the Stuart House student.

Clark knew the sound of someone wounded when he heard it. And it didn't take a genius to figure things out after seeing Julian spiral down in the bar from complete sobriety to full drunk in under three hours, and then Clark being called that particular name in the stupor. He gazed at the actor at the other end of the backseat, the slender but strong form that had caught his eye more than once and made things far more awkward in Clark's head than he'd wanted to.

As far as he knew, he was straight and that was for sure. But his eyes kept going back to Julian all the same. Julian, on the other hand…

He had seen Julian in a bar with another guy before. Julian hadn't seen him, but Clark had seen him making out with the guy, and then he was sure of two things: That Julian wasn't as straight arrow as the publicists and tabloids claimed, and that he seemed to be fond of blonds. Both of which did not help the confused fluttering in Clark's gut.

Julian was falling asleep by the window, and he shouldn't be, it was too cold there. Clark sighed and pulled him away from it. "C'mere."

"No…" Julian grumbled, liking the cold window on his forehead, the headache setting in.

"It's too cold."Julian was so pliant that he flopped onto Clark, who was a little started as he managed to put an arm around him. "Come on. You'll glue your forehead to the window like that."

"You're a lot—" Julian coughed, "—you're a lot more demanding than your stepbrother," he complained.

Clark had almost forgotten that Julian went to the same school that his stepfather Winston's son Reed went to. It made him smile. "Well Reed isn't a very forceful person and ends up going with the flow…"

"…awesome painter, though…" Julian mumbled into Clark's shirt.

"Yes he is," Clark agreed with a smile. "Unusual of you to compliment someone out of nowhere."

"Call things as I see them…" Julian grumbled. "Shut up, Sawyer, my head hurts."

Clark smiled and kept his arm around him. Sure Julian was drunk and it made this possible, but Clark was willing to take it. Julian's hair fell over his eyes again, and Clark carefully tucked it away once more behind his ear. Julian was asleep and Clark was very close. It would've been so easy to do the shitty thing and become that little bit closer and for once give into that strange desire to find out exactly what it was like to kiss him.

But he just wasn't that kind of person. He merely laid his palm onto Julian's cheek and let him rest against him as he turned back to the road. But he felt his heart race when Julian's hand slipped upwards and covered his, pressing his palm more firmly to his face.

Julian was definitely drunk.

* * *

Clark tipped Julian down and the actor plunged like a stone into the downy bed of the large condo. If stones groaned. "Geez…" Julian grumbled facedown onto the exquisite coverlet. "Take it easy on me."

"You slipped," Clark said with a smile.

"Why—why're you not drunk anyway?" Julian mumbled as he rolled over. "You can't be that much of a saint."

"I don't drink."

"Bullshit."

"I _can't_ drink." Clark clarified simply. "I'm intolerant to alcohol. I've told you before, but I don't expect you to remember right now anyway."

Julian laughed, sounding hysterical. "_Shit_ you must be the last saint in Hollywood, man."

"Trust me…" Clark murmured, closing the curtains of the bedroom and glancing back to Julian, splayed on the bed. "I am not a saint." He walked out of the room and into the bathroom for a moment.

"I suppose if you have the life you lead, you couldn't be," Julian conceded, bracing himself up on his elbows and groaning almost immediately in pain. "My head…feels like someone just shoved a _spike_ into it, _fuck_ what the _hell_ did I even drink…?"

As though on cue, Clark walked into the room again, carrying a crystal glass of cold water and an aspirin in his wide palm. As he sat on the bed, it creaked at the weight of the six-foot-five popstar who now leaned towards Julian. "Here," he said, holding out the medication.

Julian looked at him through veiling lashes as though deeply considering him. Clark only smiled a little in answer. Julian took the aspirin from his palm and took the glass of water, swallowing the medication down and emptying the glass. Clark took the glass and set it down on the side table, having to reach past Julian as he did so. When he did, Julian murmured to his ear, "What are you doing here, Sawyer?"

Clark stopped mid-reach and glanced to him. "Making sure that you don't do anything stupid."

Julian leaned close—very close for his breath to bloom over Clark's cheek. "…does kissing you count as stupid, Sawyer…?" he whispered.

Clark closed his eyes. There were very few moments in his life when he felt that he had to take several deep breaths in order to make a decision which could very well change how everything was going in his life. He wondered why he felt the need to do this at this moment, with a drunken Julian Larson nearly right up against him, asking about kissing him.

And for the first time, Clark Sawyer hated the fact that he _was_ such a fucking saint.

"Yes," Clark answered at last, eyes looking intently into Julian's. Julian stared back at him, eyes still glazed with the alcohol, and Clark continued softly, "It would be…a very stupid thing to do…"

Julian seemed to smirk slowly at this. He could see it Clark's eyes that he wants to. He really wanted to. And that was already a whole lot more than Julian hoped for from his handsome co-star. Still smirking, he leaned forward to kiss him, but Clark's warm hand stopped him from the shoulder. Surprised, Julian looked up at him.

Clark looked hurt—as though it hurt him to stop him this way. His hands were shaking with restraint. "Julian…" Clark leaned his forehead onto the other actor's. "Julian, you're drunk. And…and…_shit,_ you have no idea how much I…" Clark swallowed. Julian wasn't going to remember even a quarter of this in the morning. He put a hand on the crook of Julian's neck as the younger actor stared at him. "But you won't remember this…any of this… And I…" Clark took a breath and looked back at him. "…and I just…I want you to remember when I kiss you."

Julian's brow furrowed. Clark smiled faintly. "It's not me you're going to kiss right now… it'll be him. The guy whose name you whispered to me, the guy you mistook me for. I want you to look at me when you kiss me, Julian, not him. Look at me."

At those words, a strange expression came into Julian's face. A realization, a painful one, almost horrified, as though it had just dawned onto him what he was doing. Clark smiled bitterly in response. He knew Julian didn't really want to kiss him. Why would he? And now he's just realized that he nearly did something so stupid as to even try to.

Clark was wrong. Julian's hand flew to his mouth, and to Clark's surprise, those eyes started to well up. "Oh god…" Julian hissed as though in shock. Why was he crying?

"What—what's wrong?" Clark asked, concerned, moving a bit closer. "Julian, what is it…? Why are you—"

"I—I'm doing it to you," Julian choked, staring at him with wide eyes. "The thing that's happening to me, I—I'm doing it to you right back…"

"What are you talking about?" Clark asked, almost smiling as he moved his hands comfortingly through Julian's soft hair. Why was he crying? Julian Larson—crying? Was this even real? "It's all right, you haven't done anything wrong."

"Like hell I'm not! I…I'm looking at someone else and…you…all this time you…"

Clark felt a little confused. How could he be blaming himself in this situation? He shook his head, holding Julian's face in his hands softly. "No, no, Julian—calm down. You haven't done anything—"

"No, you moron, you're _wrong_," Julian coughed, staring up at him, tears falling free and everything uninhibited. He was trying to catch his breath. "This—this shitty thing that's happened to me…" he coughed again. "For three years…this thing I have with that guy… And now I've done it to you…"

"What do you mean?"

Julian stared at him, hands tightening over Clark's. "The guy from school, Logan… I'm…I'm in love with him…like an idiot. All this time since I began coming to Dalton. And…and he kept looking at people other than me. He wouldn't look at me. Never has—never will. And now I find out that you…you… _shit_, Clark—how long?"

Clark wondered who exactly this Logan character was that he could bypass Julian who was perpetually in his vicinity and only had eyes for him. Hell, Clark was straight and didn't even see Julian all that often but _he_ couldn't stop looking. He pushed the thought aside and looked at Julian. "Look. This isn't your fault. All right?" He smiled. "You're perfect."

"I'm the fucking devil," Julian laughed bitterly. He looked up at him.

"This is just the alcohol talking," Clark smiled. "Because you, Julian Larson, are aware of just how perfect you are."

This won Clark a laugh at least. Julian looked at him with a small grin. "You know me well."

"Of course I do." Clark's smile grew wider. "We're all we've got out here, this side of the bright lights."

Julian stared at him with a strange, twisted kind of smile. "Clark…?" he began, sounding, for the very first time in years, completely vulnerable, and afraid.

At such a tone, coming from the usually more powerful personality between them, Clark just shook his head and pulled him close, holding him tightly. Julian clung onto him tightly, coughing as he let the tears flow. He was crying onto him, because he could see him. All this time, Julian thought no one could see him as he was. But Clark saw him—and only him.

"It's all right…" Clark murmured, leaning his head against Julian's. "Just let it out. …it'll be better in the morning." He smiled a little. "…you won't remember."

The clutch on his shirt tightened as Julian looked up. "I want to remember," Julian said, looking up at him. The alcohol still had him, but he was pushing it down. "I want to remember you in the morning."

Clark laughed a little. "Why? Half this conversation…it would normally horrify you."

"Trust me, it would take a whole lot to horrify me…" Julian grumbled, remembering the battles on school grounds due to relationships gone wrong. But he lifted his eyes to Clark. "You…don't horrify me. Contrary."

"That's always good news," Clark said sensibly, smiling down at him. Julian laughed, leaning against him as Clark put his arms around him.

It felt strangely comfortable, too comfortable, to be around each other this way. Julian felt as though he were safe, and it was a feeling he didn't normally get. He could trust the last angel in Hollywood, who had, for some reason, decided to look after him, the little spitfire who didn't ever want any taking care of. It was the weirdest thing he'd ever heard of.

Julian lifted his head, cold cheek leaning on Clark's warm one. As their proximity became just that bit closer, Clark's laugh faded away and they looked at each other through their lashes, breaths close. Julian had been back and forth about leaving Dalton, leaving Logan, leaving everything that felt worth coming back for, ever since he took the flight out of Ohio. And it was only now did he ever feel like it might be okay to keep distance, holding Clark's hands.

"…Clark…" Julian murmured the moment they realized that they were staring at each other's lips. "Kiss me already."

Clark raised his eyes to him again. The wanting was there, and always had been, but even as Clark cradled Julian's head with his hand, he hesitated. "…are you sure…?"

"I'll remember." Julian murmured, putting a hand on Clark's face, and the taller boy leaned into it. "I promise."

"…all right." Slow, careful, they both moved to each other, coming so close that they could feel frantic beating in each other's chests—so many bad ideas, so many good, both torn between wanting and not, never sure but willing to take the chance. Clark felt Julian's breath ghost over his lips—so close—

And then—

"I have to throw up."

Julian was flying off the bed and he flung himself into the bathroom. Clark stared, stunned in his wake, as Julian proceeded to regurgitate what must've been every alcoholic drink he'd ingested in the past few hours. And at such a sudden turn of events, a terrible burst of laughter rose up from Clark. He tried his hardest to stifle it but there was just no helping it anymore: he burst into peals of laughter, falling over into the bed.

"Shut _up, _Sawyer!" Julian yelled from the bathroom before continuing his disgusting errand.

Clark couldn't stop if he wanted to, he was laughing too hard. "Oh this is going to be the best story _ever_…"

"Don't you even try, I'm warning you—I can _ruin _you!" and then more sounds of throwing up.

"Ah, but who was the one who said 'kiss me already'?" Clark snickered from the coverlet. He stared at the ceiling with a blissful smile. "On the upside, you're _definitely_ going to remember this."

"_Damn _it…!"

Clark pushed himself up as Julian finally finished what he had to do and finished rinsing his mouth off. He flumped to the side of the bathroom doorway, wiping his mouth, hair wet, and glared at Clark. He received Clark's charming smile in response, and in spite of himself, his face flushed. It was a smile of someone who looked with boundless affection, if not love (which, Julian was certain, would get there).

So his heart was still wounded after three years of being beaten. It'll take awhile before he'd overcome the poison of green eyes that had captivated him for so long. But, Julian decided, as he sat back down on the bed, hand falling on top of Clark's, weren't angels known for healing? The taller boy wrapped an arm around his waist, the same way those same messengers from above did when they clasped those who were falling into the abyss.

"We'll try again in the morning…" Clark whispered to him. "If you let me."

Julian leaned his face to the side of Clark's neck. "I'll remember to."


	2. Also, Angels

**Part Two: **_Also, Angels_

_Julian Larson, Clark Sawyer, and the Daltonverse plotline are from CP Coulter's "Dalton"_

* * *

Let it be known henceforth that Julian Larson was a guy who enjoyed sleeping in. He couldn't understand why toddlers and little kids would howl and whine about being put down to a nap time during the afternoons—he would _kill_ to be given the chance to just pass out at any given occasion, mainly because he was so tired either from a shoot, a full schedule, or whatever else the punishing Hollywood regime has decreed.

But in this case, Julian was not planning on getting up until it was _at least_ noon due to his colossal hangover. His headache was monumental and hangovers are seldom worth the opportunity to lose yourself and forget everything prior to alcohol mist. He was just running through the fact that his fog-ridden brain could, as of the moment, inform him that last night was a successful blur of light and voices.

…_and…warmth…?_

The sun blazing through a crack in the curtains was shining into his eyes, and made him wince. _Shit_. _Not again._Mother Nature was the worst alarm call for another day.

He thought he heard a flutter that could've almost been wings, but it was likely the sound of the curtains being pulled shut and the offending ray of sun was blocked out into comfortable darkness. Julian sighed and sank his head into his pillow further. "Thanks…" was his sleepy mindless murmur.

Clark Sawyer smiled down at him and very carefully sat down on the bed, aware that his weight on the bed would be obvious and might wake the slumbering primadonna. Hung over or not, Julian remained exactly as his wild fangirls described him: gorgeous. And as Clark did twice last night, he carefully brushed the hair out of Julian's eyes.

_I have no idea how anyone could not look at you_, he admitted to himself, pulling his hand away as though he was afraid the contact would desecrate him if he left it there any longer. Clark rose with a sigh, picking up a towel and the clothes that he'd texted his handler last night to send over, and departed into the bathroom.

The warm touch of the hand in his hair was not lost on Julian, and it permeated his drowsy thoughts to trigger images of last night that were quite unlike the rest. It was the feeling of being against a strong body whose arms held him with great care, an alien notion to him, and a pair of eyes that, for the first time since he'd started envisioning desires, were blue instead of green.

Green had never been kind, and had never touched, and when he dreamed of them he could feel venom that stung him still. But the blue eyes remained gentle all the while, pushed beyond his walls, and did so far too kindly for it to have come from the same cold, glimmering, silver world he was used to living in.

And then the remembrance of lips being so close…

—a peal of laughter—

—"_Shut__**up**__, Sawyer!"—_

It came slamming back as though a dam had broken. He was drunk. And talking. And hysterical. And he was brought home by—

Julian gasped and jerked up in the covers, bolt upright in bed in moments. "Clark!"

The bathroom door opened and the popstar emerged, hair still damp, hand still holding a towel, but already clothed in his pants and shirt, and he looked concerned as he moved to the bed. "What? What's wrong?"

Julian stared up at him, a little disoriented and startled. Clark continued to gaze in concern, waiting for an answer, and did it so unwaveringly that Julian tore his gaze away as heat threatened to rise to his cheeks and make a fool out of him. "Sorry—I just…thought you left…"

Clark seemed to relax, and even smirked a little as he sat back down onto the covers, blond hair dripping. "I leave the room to get cleaned up and you start to miss me already?"

"Fuck you, Sawyer."

But Clark just grinned. Julian yawned irritably, looking around. "What time is it?"

"Around eleven-thirty. We both slept through breakfast." Clark rose and continued to dry his hair, walking back to the bathroom.

Of course Clark had slept over. He could remember that, at least. But the bed smelled like Clark's cologne. He had fallen asleep next to him. Julian vaguely remembering him urging him to sleep (well he _had_ been pretty drunk) and finally giving into the older boy's quiet insistence. Clark had lain next to him, eyes lowered and staring at nothing, but rubbing Julian's hands gently until Julian finally gave into the intoxication and fell unconscious. He last remembered the blanket being pulled over them both.

It was the most disgustingly _domestic_ thing that had ever been done to Julian in his entire life and he couldn't remember the last time he was that horribly spoiled by someone who he hadn't even actually slept with prior. What the hell was wrong with Clark anyway? There's no way anyone on earth could actually be that _nice_.

"Alicia and Iris are shooting their scenes today," Clark said as he emerged again from the bathroom and looking neater than previously. "We don't have scenes, but we do have to go to MTV for an interview."

"Why you and me?"

"Movie's storyline. You're the groom, I'm the best man, we're best friends…" Clark shrugged and stretched luxuriously. "Maybe they just want to see us together even if we're not the headliners."

"Well my name's on the billing." Julian cast a glance over his co-star. All right, maybe no one on earth could be that _nice_, but Clark Sawyer was definitely…_definitely_ that_hot_. He tore his eyes away with a nonchalant expression that was, in itself, a testament to his acting skills. "When's that happening?"

"Just after lunch," Clark responded. He sat at the bed and smiled. "I hope you don't mind, I used the shampoo I found in the cabinet."

_Fucking hell, is that why he smells like that?_ One of Julian's fans had sent that shampoo in as a present and he hadn't used it—sponsors and endorsers threw products at him like they were going out of style—but the scent of white heather that enveloped Clark and the rest of the room was, for lack of a better word, intoxicating. "I don't mind."

"You have time to get dressed—let's go out to lunch or something. You haven't eaten anything since last night, and not much then either."

Incidentally, Julian's stomach chose that time to growl, causing the actor to turn crimson in humiliation. Clark was trying very hard not to grin, but it failed dramatically. "You're such a _pain_!" Julian snapped, glaring at him as he got off the bed and headed to his closet. It was a little dark, and he heard Clark pull open the curtains, sending in a flood of California sun. Julian wondered if Clark really had good timing or if he was actually anticipating his wants. He'd make someone a good butler, Julian snorted in amusement.

He had just pulled out some things to wear when he felt a hand grab his wrist. He stopped immediately and glanced back. Clark was standing behind him, a silhouette, skin edged by sunlight gilding. "What?" Julian asked irritably.

The older actor seemed to stare at Julian for a moment, shifting slightly closer, his dark lashes painted gold by the morning, and even Julian had to hold his breath just momentarily as the blue eyes looked at him through them.

Clark wondered if Julian remembered anything. He said he would, but he really wasn't holding his breath on that one. But god, did Julian look wonderful in the light, lips curved into that irritated frown. What did that say about how messed up Clark's psyche was that he thought Julian was attractive even when he was _pissed off_?

_Stop staring at his lips…_Clark willed himself to let go of the wrist. "Nothing, I…" He stepped back. "Nothing." He walked to the door. "I'll wait for you out there."

Julian stared at his wake. What was that all about? Did he make a habit of just stunning people by coming close and letting his presence overpower them by sight? Even Julian didn't put that much stock in his own outward appearance (though he was completely aware that he's able to make several fangirls swoon if he wanted to).

As Julian turned back to his closet, wondering, Clark sank into one of the armchairs in the den outside and felt utterly embarrassed. He ran a hand through his still slightly damp hair. _What am I doing…? Of course he doesn't remember._

Shouldn't he be at least grateful for the moment when he had it? That in some distant alcohol-ridden fog, Julian had, at some point, been quite willing to kiss him? And yeah, that made things horribly awkward in Clark's head (and pants) now that they were both supposedly "sane" again, and it'll take quite a bit of work to convince himself to not press the matter.

Besides, it'd be dangerous to Julian's career if he did. And his own.

_That's right, Clark. Rationalize. Because that's totally worked all this time, hasn't it?_

He became vaguely aware of a sound that had been in the living room for a while, but it sounded as though it were whittled away somewhere. He realized that it was a ringtone, and seeing as how "Broken Strings" isn't his own ringtone, he assumed it must be Julian's. But why was it in here? Maybe Julian had dropped it when Clark hauled him in last night?

He got up and hunted around the living room, retracing the steps they took last night and searching the floor. He finally located it, under one of the hall tables, just as it stopped ringing. He picked up Julian's phone, dusted it off and turned it over.

"Forty-five missed calls…?" Clark frowned. Was something wrong? He was certain he'd informed both their handlers where they were last night, were they that worried?

A closer inspection said something else:

Two missed calls and a voicemail from Julian's publicist.

One voicemail from his manager.

Two voicemails (likely drunken ones) from Zoe L.

One (also likely drunken) voicemail from Alicia.

And what looked to be two dozen missed calls and messages from one Derek S.

And a less, but present, amount of the same from a Logan W.

Most of the calls and mail from the last two were old by some days, some over a week old. Whoever these two were, Julian was not responding to them, but he wasn't deleting their names either.

_Logan_… Clark, who had walked back into the den, slowly sat down onto the couch, staring at the name. It was the one Julian had called him last night. It was the guy that Julian told him about, in his inebriated mess, about how he'd loved him for a long time but he had never once looked at him. Clark swallowed a little, seeing that Logan _was_ trying to call Julian.

A slick of evil began to attempt penetrating him, and its origins were from some places deep in Clark that he wasn't prepared to acknowledge. A place that told him theories that if Logan so much as hinted wanting Julian back for certain reasons, Julian would evaporate just like that. And Clark would lose him.

But it made no sense, that side of him, as he couldn't lose something he never had. And Julian's life was none of his business. As far as Julian was concerned, he didn't remember what he said much, and maybe he didn't remember things Clark told him about how he felt, strange as it was. Maybe his mind just realigned to the fact that Clark was straight, and because of that, the confession was forgotten.

Clark knew he was straight…but he kept looking at Julian anyway.

He stared at the phone. What was Logan even calling him for?

There was a moment of stressed deliberation, and Clark was found at the end as no angel—but human. The latest message was opened on the screen, for him to see.

_Julian, what the hell? Answer your damn phone! When are you coming back to Dalton?_

Clark closed the message and put the phone on the table next to the couch. His hand shook a little as he ran a hand through his hair.

Julian's life was calling to him. A real one, with friends and school.

One Clark was never going to be a part of.

* * *

Julian emerged from the bedroom to see Clark casually flipping through channels in the massive flatscreen television in the den. Julian was sure this is just the hangover talking, but the sun was too bright as it poured in through the curtains, and the way it hit Clark made him look like he'd catch fire. And those blue eyes were amplified to devastating effect—one he only ever saw before in green ones at their most furious—when he glanced to him with a slight smile. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Julian grumbled as he pushed his sunglasses up and glowered at the sun. "What's the deal with you and sunlight?"

"I like sunny days," Clark responded with a grin. "You, on the other hand, are a famous night owl, so I don't expect you to understand…" He turned to the TV and laughed. "Hey, look."

It was the first trailer for _South of Heaven_, flashing across the screen. Both he and Clark appear in it—Julian taking up more screen time as the young groom in a family who was forced to accept a pregnant daughter marrying at the age of eighteen, based off the book series, _Of Heaven_. Clark, as his best friend, appears with him in certain clips, as the best man, and the friend who is slowly getting tired of helping.

Julian snorted at the sight of himself, face creased in contorted contemplation. "Don't watch that thing." He grabbed the remote from Clark and turned it off—his friend burst out laughing, protesting, "But we haven't even gotten to the part where you say your vows!"

"I don't want to." Julian snapped. "Hell, I'll get shot when I do."

Clark's expression changed suddenly. He rose from the couch. "Hang on a minute. Those letters and presents—"

Julian looked petulant again. "They're still coming. And the sender is angry. Now that the trailer is out."

Clark was at his side in a moment, face dark, incredibly distressed. "Julian, _shit—_have you told Everly?" Ned Everly was the Director of this hyped film and Julian would rather slug it out with whoever the freak threatening him was than tell _Ned Everly_ that someone was threatening his life for being in the film. Everly had principles. He'd actually give serious consideration to taking Julian out "because he had his whole life to live" or something like that.

Screw that. "What do you think, Sawyer?"

Clark looked stunned but didn't say anything further. He looked tense as he looked around the crushingly empty residence that usually had no one but Julian and the occasional cleaning lady in it. "Look at least…at least increase your people, your…security. You live alone in here, Julian—"

"Here's an idea…" Julian said as he casually picked up his coat from the rack in the hall. "Stay over a couple of nights. You'll see that an English _moor_ is pretty much more deadly than this place."

Maybe he was just teasing. Maybe he was hung over to death and wasn't thinking straight. Maybe he liked the idea of having tall, blond and gorgeous over there staying in his house.

"Okay."

Julian choked and stared at Clark with wide eyes. The other boy stared at him in return with no real expression other than acquiescence. "What…?"

Clark shrugged a little. "I don't see why I can't. This place is closer to the lot than my apartment." He blinked. "Oh…you were joking?"

_Mostly. Okay half. Oh hell, who gives a shit, he said yes._"It's fine by me," Julian replied nonchalantly as he slipped on his coat. "But you're paying for your share of the food, freeloader."

"That's 'guest'," Clark smirked. "You invited, so I'm a guest. And you'll have to be nice to me as etiquette dictates."

"Do I _look_ etiquette to you, Sawyer?"

"You're in no condition to drive, so I will," Clark said casually as he took his own coat where it was left by the door. "Should I let Jessica know I'm staying with you?"

"That'll _thrill_ her. She'll unload all responsibilities on you." Julian tossed him the keys to his Bentley.

Clark was unruffled. "Fantastic. I'm officially your babysitter."

"Good luck with that." Julian snorted as he walked out into the sunlight, coat pulled, shades up, and ready to face the world.

* * *

Lunch was easy. Julian couldn't remember the last time he'd actually eaten out with someone who he wasn't interested in getting in their pants—all right, if he was going to be all _technical_about it, he _had_wondered what it would be like getting into Clark's, but had never really acted on it—but somehow the idea didn't surface throughout the meal.

They simply talked about everything. Clark was the rational, calm buffer to Julian's snippy comments and even when Julian was crass and moody due to the hangover, Clark acted like one of the classic male moviestars of years long past, in some lounge, all classy and elegant and letting him let it out.

And Julian had to admit that it mellowed him some, and had him speaking a little less venomously when it appeared that Clark's end of the conversation wasn't going to go in equals to his tone.

Clark was rather glad to find Julian back to normal today; the drunken Julian had incredible mood swings that rather made him wonder if he should be preparing for a round two or three in the duration of his stay in Julian's condo, which they _still_ hadn't actually talked about. How long was he staying, or where—but the fact was he was just startled that Julian offered at all.

Clark knew Julian enjoyed his time to himself; in sets and locations when he was with him, he would stay in his trailer or sit on his chair texting other people, and almost seemed to get annoyed when his co-stars ask him to join them. So when he asked him to stay in his condo with him, he saw that as some kind of invitation that, while it sounded like a challenge, meant that he might distantly want to stay with someone.

And that phone… He stared at it during lunch, on the table. Julian hadn't touched it. He hadn't been texting like mad or calling either. Just answering the few from his people. And the messages that Clark had seen must have been building up.

This was why, during the drive to MTV, he said, "You're not going back to your school, are you."

It was a statement. Julian glanced at him, a little surprised. Clark kept his eyes on the road. "I just noticed that you weren't attached to your phone anymore," he said, sounding a little hesitant. "And…you used to talk about school all the time."

"School is a pain in the ass, one that I need like a need a hole in the head," Julian grumbled. "Stifling uniforms, stifling people, stifling teachers…"

"You smile when you text your friends from there."

Julian swallowed and glared at him with a force that penetrated his sunglasses. His face flushed hot and it wasn't because of the sun. "Why the hell do you care? And what the hell would you know about school, you haven't been in one since…since…!"

"Middle school," Clark nodded without expression. "You're right, I'm sorry. I wouldn't know. I was just…I was worried that you were being forced into the movie."

Julian clenched his fists, knuckles white. It was hard to get worked up with Clark. It was still alien to him, snapping and sniping at someone who just refused to be pulled into the heat of a fight. Clark always diffused him, whether he liked it or not. In Dalton, Derek and Logan would always be ready, swords up, to clash with him verbally, but Clark just wasn't that.

"Well I'm not," Julian finally hissed, glaring out the window. "I wanted to do it so I ditched school and I did it."

"All right," Clark nodded.

"Are you bullshitting me?" Julian finally demanded.

Clark looked surprised now, turning to him. "Why would I do that?"

"You're agreeing to everything I say!"

Clark backed a little, startled by his vehemence. "Am I not supposed to?"

Julian set his jaw and just glared as he turned to the window again, fuming. There was just no arguing with Clark! He was incorrigible! And his words had taken effect, striking home.

At this moment, Julian felt the car slow before coming to a stop at the side of the empty road they were on. "What the hell…?" Julian looked around.

Clark pulled the brake and turned to him, his face now intent. "Julian, is there something you need to tell me here?"

"I don't _need_ to fucking tell you anything," Julian muttered.

"But you didn't answer my question earlier. Am I not supposed to agree with you? I mean, do you _want_ to go back to school? Is that why you're picking this fight? You want someone to tell you to go back?"

"There is _nothing_ for me back at Dalton," Julian said, tearing off his glasses and looking at Clark, eyes blazing. "Nothing." Dalton was the pain in his side, that dull throb, that tearing pain and that poison he was trying to get away from. Cruel green wrapped in blue and red colors.

Clark searched his face, expression gentle. "…then why do you get so angry when I take your words for face value?"

Cold clamped around heavily in Julian's chest. He looked away.

Clark took a deep breath and decided to throw caution to the wind. If this was hurting Julian, he had to know. "…is this about the guy you mentioned last night…? The one you mistook me for…?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Julian, last night—"

"Clark!" Julian glared at him, but that glare begged. It begged for an end, and for the talk to stop. And it was by far the most honest thing given to Clark all day. "Please. I don't want to do this right now. I don't want to remember _anything_."

And then it was Clark's turn to feel chilled.

_I want to remember. I want to remember you in the morning._

Julian stared at Clark, wondering why he suddenly looked so…hurt. As an open book, Clark's expressions told far too much. And this expression on his face lasted for what must've been a second before he just smiled a little again. "All right." And Clark leaned back into his seat.

Julian stared at him. _What did I say? Why…why did he look like that?_

Clark turned the key in the ignition and started up the Bentley again. He gave Julian a glance as though to reassure him that it was all right, he would no longer press the matter.

"Clark," Julian prompted, frowning. But the older boy just shook his head. "It's all right," Clark answered with a small smile. They were on the road again, heading for another day on the job where everyone had to pretend.

Julian tore his eyes away from him and stared moodily out the window. For once, getting exactly what he wanted didn't turn out the way he expected it to. What the hell was wrong with Clark anyway? First, he presses the school questions and then suddenly…

_Julian, last night—_

And what _did_ happen last night…? Julian laid his fingertips on his lips, trying to remember. What did he say? Did he say something else about Logan, is that what this was all about?

In the back of his mind, something terribly heavy nagged incessantly. Something was desperate in there, trying to get him to remember. He was forgetting something. Forgetting something far too important to let go. Everything in him, the more he tried to look back at last night, past the drunken fog, the more insistent it became, and kept begging him to remember, as it had tried to all morning since he saw Clark in the sun.

Something about Julian and Logan, something about the problem. He had clearly told Clark something about that… And yet everything wasn't exactly right. There was something else…

… and Clark.

He looked to his companion, who was driving silently.

It was Clark, wasn't it?


	3. The Burning Ones

**Part Three**: _The Burning Ones_  
**Pairing**: Juliark (Clark/Julian)

_Julian Larson, Clark Sawyer and the Daltonverse plotline are from CP Coulter's "Dalton"._

* * *

"Ten minutes for you guys, okay, Clark? Julian?" called one of the assistants.

Clark rose from his seat at the green room, but as expected, Julian remained sprawled on the couch, only acknowledging with eyes lifted momentarily. The assistant ducked away out of the doorway, and Clark headed to go. Julian looked up and said, "Where are you going? She said ten minutes."

"I always wait in the wings when they say ten minutes." Clark ran a hand carefully through his perfectly styled hair. "I know you don't get up until they say five, so I'll wait for you out there."

Clark hadn't spoken a word since they hit the studio, and their people descended to help them get ready. Julian was pulled away by his publicists and managers, who were taking turns in briefing him on what was going to happen and berating him for being out of contact all night, and now very clearly hung over. Julian had just winced irritably at them, letting them take the dark glasses from his eyes, and looked up when he saw Clark being pulled away by his own people, Clark listening patiently with that partially confused look in his face as usual.

Julian, still apprehensive by Clark's strange reaction in the Bentley, had waved a little in goodbye to him as they were taken to their separate dressing rooms, but Clark didn't see him as he spoke to his people.

Julian may have been in the industry longer (since childhood), but Clark was more used to the whole process. Ever since Julian had begun going to high school, his in-and-out dives in Hollywood always had him adjusting and re-adjusting to the environment. Clark lived in it full time, so he was always, always "on". He knew what he was doing and almost never had to be told too long what was expected of him.

And here was where Julian felt a pang for lashing out at him. He didn't know what Clark had going for him, but for him to remain as that perfectly amiable person amidst all the hot lamps and the perfectly crafted image (which, as it would appear, was _not_ a front—it really _was_ him) was a feat. He was really trying to help when he spoke to Julian in the car, because he really did reach out when he could. To anyone who wasn't fake, like him.

And Julian was hardly ever fake when he was with him. He was only fake in front of the camera. And Julian realized that Clark knew him far _far_ better than anyone in Hollywood did. And, as it would seem, better than anyone at Dalton as well.

The tall popstar now stood at the door of the greenroom, pausing momentarily with his hand on the doorknob. He glanced back to Julian slightly. Clark's eyes rested on the phone that was abandoned on the table again. Julian looked deep in thought.

And Clark decided to do the non-shitty thing—and not have Julian remain near, in this world, when he deserved better. "…you should know that…he's looking for you."

Julian, who was seemingly deep in thought, glanced up, a little distracted. "Sorry—what? Who?"

Clark immediately panicked as sanity set back in. What was he saying? Julian would know that he'd been in his phone if he told him. He'd never trust him again and while Clark was willing to let him run off, he didn't want to lose him_entirely_. "I meant—I meant Everly. Everly is…looking for you. He…wants to…talk to you about some scenes he wanted." And he hastily left, heart pounding in his chest.

It wasn't often that he had momentary lapses of judgment, but though he meant well, Clark couldn't possibly let the ever-private Julian know that he's been digging into his phone out of sheer _jealousy_ as the case may be. He was only human for heavenssakes. He fled the green room like it was on fire. He had to get his head straight.

Julian stared after Clark, who was acting even more strangely than usual, as he disappeared. Now what did he miss? And how could he have missed it, he was thinking about the guy the whole time! _Fucking hangover, I can't catch a break—_

He jumped when his phone rattled on the table. Another message. He rolled his eyes and scooped it up. It probably was Everly, like Clark said. Well whatever Academy-award-winning-Director wanted, he'd get…

Julian looked into his inbox and stopped at the name. It was from "Logan W."

Again.

He closed his eyes. _Please, please stop haunting me._He hissed to himself, pushing the sight of green eyes away—

—and realized he had a memory of a pair of blue ones amidst the amber light of his bedroom. So very…very close. Warm breath over his lips, his hand having the physical memory of a warm cheek.

And it wasn't from this morning.

He opened his eyes. He looked back down at his inbox and saw something odd. Logan's message was marked unread, but the one right below it was. And Julian hadn't read a single message from Logan since he'd left Dalton. His brow furrowed. Had he opened this one last night? Was this what was bugging him?

He opened it and read the same message Clark had opened in his moment of weakness.

And everything fell into place.

The comments about him not going back to school, about Logan, and why he said that someone was looking for him and why he'd said it in that soft tone—and most importantly—

—last night.

Julian dropped his phone. That expression. That _look_ on Clark's face when he said he didn't want to remember. It came back in a foggy blast that left Julian sick to his stomach. _Oh no. Oh no, oh no…_

"Clark!" Julian hurled himself out of the couch, going so fast that his still hungover self hurt everywhere. He reached the door only to have it opened by Jessica, his publicist. "Julian!" she gasped. "Come on, five minutes! Go, go!" and she grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the room.

* * *

"Clark."

The popstar smiled as Julian breathlessly came up next to him. "Hey. You're almost on. You go out first, you're the higher billed." He grinned easily.

"Clark, I have to talk to you about—"

"—stars of _South of Heaven_coming out this summer—_Julian Larson and Clark Sawyer!_"

The girls in the brightly colored studio erupted into screaming at decibels that could've sent lamps smashing into the ground. Julian felt Clark's warm hand on the small of his back, urging him forward into the light. In the blaze of the lamps, Julian felt a little disoriented, and the wild screaming in the studio rose even further.

Clark stepped in behind him, and the screaming worsened as the fangirls caught sight of him—all of it did _nothing_for Julian's hangover.

Coming up next to the heavily made-up and bubbly hosts, Julian and Clark smiled to the fangirls, waving to them as clips from the trailer played back in the large screens around them. After the customary exchange of greetings and hugs to the hosts, they both took seats on high stools, Clark looking even more long-legged that way as his feet still nearly touched the floor, and Julian sending girls into fits of wild screaming as he merely brushed back his brown hair.

The interview proceeded with the regularity of every single interview they've had before: the same questions about the movie, how relationships are with the cast, what they think of the talk in Tinsel Town about the movie. Julian was asked how it felt to be working with Everly for the third time, and having Alicia as his leading lady and bride-to-be. Clark was asked about how it felt to have his first real blockbuster, and working with such a prestigious director.

There was the talk of Julian and Alicia going out for real ("We're just great friends—Alicia's a really talented actress."), and Clark getting rumors of leaving his band ("I'm still working very closely with the group and my phone is full their daily supportive messages."). And this led to one of the hosts joking that Clark might be getting rusty, and ask if he would sing a song for them? Any song?

The studio nearly collapsed with the screaming as Clark laughed and nodded. Julian was mildly amused, smiling as one of the assistants immediately came forward with a guitar. Another chair was put down in the middle of the studio, and Clark smiled as he got off the stool and went to that one, guitar in hand.

He strummed a little for a moment, testing it, before he nodded to the fans in the room. They started screaming again. Julian almost laughed, but he was surprised when Clark met his eyes and smiled in a different way from his "stage" smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

As the noise died down, Clark leaned forward to the microphone as be began to sing:

_Closed off from love; I didn't need the pain_

_Once or twice was enough and it was all in vain_

_Time starts to pass, before you know it you're frozen_

Blue eyes lifted to Julian, whose heart practically stopped.

_But something happened for the very first time with you_

_My heart melts into the ground; found something true_

_And everyone's looking round thinking I'm going crazy…_

Julian forgot he was even in a studio. He stared, wide-eyed and mouth open slightly, face flushing under the makeup, as Clark sang in his beautiful tone:

_But I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you_

_They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth_

_My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing_

_You cut me open and I…_

_Keep bleeding—Keep, keep bleeding love_

_I keep bleeding—I keep, keep bleeding love_

_Keep bleeding—Keep, keep bleeding love_

_You cut me open…_

Never in his life had this ever happened to Julian. He heard of it happening all the time in Warblers, and Logan, Blaine and Kurt must have done it a million times to one another, to each other, but never had a song been directed to him before.

And Julian had to wonder if the song was meant to empathize with him, if Clark was trying to sing something that was meant as Julian's own personal catharsis, or…if it was meant _for_ him. Clark's eyes glanced to him slightly again.

_Trying hard not to hear but they talk so loud_

_Their piercing sounds fill my ears, try to fill me with doubt_

_Yet I know that the goal is to keep me from falling…_

Julian rose from the stool, hand gripped on the microphone. He wasn't going to just sit and listen. He brought the mic to his lips and, to the wild screaming of the fans, moved towards Clark as he sang.

_But nothing's greater than the rush that comes with your embrace_

_And in this world of loneliness I see your face_

_Yet everyone around me thinks that I'm going crazy, maybe, maybe…_

Clark's look of surprise as Julian moved to him was worth it. Julian smirked a little as he kept singing, giving him a sidelong glance as he turned to the fans, singing along with Clark and sending the fans into a frenzy. Their voices rose and melded together:

_But I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you_

_They try to pull me away but they don't know the truth_

_My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing_

_You cut me open and I…_

_Keep bleeding—Keep, keep bleeding love_

_I keep bleeding—I keep, keep bleeding love_

_Keep bleeding—Keep, keep bleeding love_

_You cut me open and I…_

They both looked at each other only for a moment—not just enough for people not to take notice, but just enough for the other to know—as they sang together.

_Keep bleeding—Keep, keep bleeding love_

_I keep bleeding—I keep, keep bleeding love…_

That brought the house down. Julian smiled to the fans as Clark rose from the stool and waved to them, the hosts crowing in delight, "Give it up for Clark and Julian, everybody!"

The screaming became louder, and Julian became aware of an arm going around his shoulders. He smiled as Clark gave him a quick, firm hug, and returned it, patting the other boy's arm, before the two of them released each other and waved again to the fans.

* * *

"I think I'm going to pass out."

Clark laughed as Julian flopped down on his back onto the couch back in the condo. The afternoon sun streamed into the windows as the breeze fluttered the curtains, and everything was wonderfully quiet.

At the wake of the sudden, impromptu Clark-Julian performance (only Clark had been consigned to sing, so Julian joining him caused quite a bit of a ruckus), their publicists repeatedly begged them to please _warn them_ the next time they planned on doing such a thing. It was already all over the place, and the internet had exploded. Their fangirls had the video up on youtube almost immediately after the show, and the two were able to watch it on the phones. And they were actually very good together.

Their managers agreed to set them loose for the afternoon—they wouldn't be needed until a red carpet event tonight. But they wanted them in the salons by early evening. Giving Clark and Julian a few precious hours to themselves.

"They want us to sing again," Clark remarked with a smile as he looked down at Julian form. "As least, that's what Lacey told me. Apparently it was promotional _gold,_what we did. And the producers for _Something Damaged_have gone off the wall. They want us to sing together in the show. The scriptwriters are on it already."

"Everyone gets overexcited way too easily around here—it was one song," Julian said, eyes closed as he lay down on the couch, sprawled, shirt riding up a little and looking far too luxurious for Clark's comfort. The older boy would have turned away, but he stopped when he saw Julian lift his hand to him, arm extended as though beckoning to him. "Hey."

A little puzzled, Clark moved to him and took the lifted hand, the fine hairs on Julian's arm glimmering gold through the afternoon sun. He looked as beautiful as ever, dappled like that.

Julian thought the same of the all-too-human angel standing over him, holding his hand firmly for a moment, eyes half closed. He kept their hands together for a moment, and murmured, "Thank you."

"For what?" Clark smiled.

Julian stared at him for a long moment. Clark really was going to let last night go by without a word. It was just the way he was. But Julian wasn't going to be the one to pretend. Not anymore.

Clark felt the tug of Julian's weight and supported it as Julian used his strength to get up from the couch and onto his feet. Julian stood right up next to him, as close as they had been last night. Clark loosened his hold, expecting Julian to let go, but when Julian's hand tightened on his, he responded to it.

The sun blazed between them as Julian lifted his head up to look at Clark, who was looking a little confused. Julian lifted his other hand, putting it at the back of Clark's neck, pulling the other boy down to him a little. Eyes fluttered closed, brushed with golden afternoon light, Julian carefully pressed his lips to Clark's own.

He felt Clark tense beneath his hands, and for some absurd reason, tears stung under Julian's eyelids as he kept his hold firm, begging Clark not to pull away, to please, for the sake of his sanity, please stay and kiss him back—to reassure him without saying a word that he hadn't lost him.

A warm hand slipped around his waist, pulling him closer as Clark responded to the kiss, his other hand moving into Julian's brown hair. Julian breathed out in relief as he continued to kiss him, the lips against his own moving with tender restraint that he'd never quite been able to master.

_So this is what kissing Clark Sawyer is like…_ he wondered, losing rational thinking. _…warm._

They parted from the kiss and Julian stared up at Clark, who looked at him with an expression that could've only been tender longing. The younger actor smiled faintly. "…I'm sorry I'm late. But I _am_ hung over."

Clark was a little surprised, but he smiled a little now. "…I thought you…" He shook his head a little. "I was happy with whatever you were happy with."

"Then it's this." Julian tightened his hold on Clark's hand. "I was an idiot earlier this afternoon. I…I didn't mean what I said. Can I…" he swallowed. He looked up with misted, determined eyes. "…Can I take it back?"

"You're not an idiot…" Clark admonished softly.

"You're supposed to agree with me," Julian prompted, frowning.

"But—"

"Just please let me take it back. I'm only going to ever apologize to you, Clark Sawyer." Julian's eyes were rapidly filling in spite of his determination to keep the tears in. He was starting to feel a little desperate, hands shaking. "And I'm doing it because it's you. Because I've given up everything else. I'm willing to let all that go, I damn well am, but I refuse…" He took a shuddering breath as the tears won out. "—I fucking _refuse_ to give you up too. I can't lose you out of something as idiotic as a hangover."

Clark smiled as he lowered his eyes, a soft, short laugh escaping his lips. This was the strangest confession anyone had ever given to him. The strangest, the best, and it came from the one he never expected it from.

It was perfect.

He pulled Julian against him. "I would've still stood by you, you know. You didn't have to do this."

Julian was aware he was getting Clark's shirt wet. "Yeah well…I have to start somewhere. That really stupid thing that happened to me…I wasn't going to just let it happen to you. You're too nice for your own damn good—you're like a three-year-old. I know too well how shitty having to pretend it's nothing feels."

Clark just smiled, holding him close. "…you _are_ too good for him."

"Who?"

Clark didn't answer. Julian pulled back and looked up at him. "I'm not going back to Dalton, Clark."

The taller boy looked at him intently. Julian already knew, presumably, so maybe he could just say it. "…he wants you back. He wouldn't be calling you off the hook otherwise."

"He doesn't want me back because he feels the same way. He's never looked at me, I told you."

"He could. If you told him. …the way I told you last night what it was like for me."

Julian lowered his eyes, and Clark smiled sadly at him. Julian had loved Logan for years. Clark had to make sure that he had a chance at happiness—

"You really are an idiot."

Clark stared. "What?"

Julian lifted his hands up to Clark's head, pulling him to him again. "You just answered it yourself. He could love me if I told him, the same way you told me. Yes. You took the chance and told me. …and that's why I'm with you now." Julian kissed him lightly one more time. "…stop hurting yourself and pushing me away. I want to be here for once in my life. Be selfish for once…and tell me you want me."

Clark's hands tightened on Julian's waist. Give or take—heaven or hell—human or angel—out the window and into the sky. It didn't matter anymore. This is the only thing that did. "…I do. I have for while."

"All I needed to hear…" Julian whispered, kissing him again, harder this time, which Clark responded to so strongly that Julian thought they'd both catch fire. Bodies pulled tight against each other and kissing with the hunger of unrequited gazes, Julian's hands fisting into Clark's shirt and Clark keeping Julian firmly against him, they did look as though they were on fire against the afternoon sun.

It was a start. It was definitely, definitely a promising start.


End file.
